


Reverend Green, in the Library, with the Candlestick

by Malsang



Series: Additional Perspectives on the Dusking of the Third Age of Arda [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, Character Study, Companion Piece, Companionable Snark, Dialogue Heavy, Dream Logic, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Headcanon, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Leadership, Mild Language, One Shot, Philosophy, Pre-Canon, Role Models, Role Reversal, foresight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malsang/pseuds/Malsang
Summary: A follow-up work to Maeldaer's Dark MareHealers make the worst patients. They always think that they should already know what is wrong with them. They don't like listening to other people's opinions of what might be wrong with them. Anything that is wrong with them that they can't deal with themselves, must obviously require a miracle to fix. Preferably instantly, by an omniscience, omnipotent being that clearly outranks them. Anyone less than that, will have to outcompete them first, for the right to be respected.





	Reverend Green, in the Library, with the Candlestick

**Author's Note:**

> In the darkest hours, is there truly no-one in Middle-Earth whom a half-elf can turn to for insight into the whys and hows of coping with being a half-man tormented by nightmares?

Elrond awoke violently, gasping for breath and clutching his throat, shaking with adrenaline. This was the third night in a row he had been tormented by the same nightmare. Normally he would go back to sleep once he had calmed down, certain that he would not experience it again. Tonight however, he pulled the coverings tightly around him for whatever meagre comfort they could offer, sitting up to discourage his mind from slipping back into unconsciousness. The nightmare had lasted longer every night, and he had been convinced that he was truly doomed to die this time. The attack always came out of nowhere - never in the same circumstances as before - and there had been so much blood...

Shivering in renewed horror he abandoned the bed, retreating to the heavily padded chairs he had furnished his personal library with. He took a candle with him for light, but as he found that didn't wish to read any of the esoteric tomes, he snuffed it again so as not to waste it once he was settled in. He was just starting to drift-off when he heard the door open - silently to the ears of men - and a hooded figure in a Ranger's cloak slipped inside the room, equally quietly closing the door behind it.

"And what," The figure visibly jumped at discovering that he wasn't alone. "Are you doing sneaking into my rooms at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," a familiar, male voice answered him. "Thought I might read instead."

"I've told you before to ask my permission before coming in here."

"I didn't want to wake you, but since you are already awake, can I come in and read?"

"There are plenty of books in the other libraries. Surely you aren't sneaking in here because you have read everything publicly available?"

"Why would I do that when Pervil beat me by centuries in gaining the reputation of being 'an anti-social know-it-all who reads everything, yet understands less than a tenth of what she has read'? What's the point, when all the important books are in here?"

"True understanding is not found in the pages of books, they contain merely the ideas and opinions of individuals who have lived though things others may not have."

"Is that why are you sitting here huddled in the dark instead of being all tucked-up in bed like some paradigm of virtue, unflinching in the face of overwhelming odds like the superior-being you are so determined to be publicly seen as? Not even the most renowned of scholars could possibly offer insight into the deadly perils you now face?"

"Maybe I merely could not sleep either, and sitting here contemplating the future is preferable to staying in bed."

"Why? More bad Foresights? They aren't about me, are they?"

"Why in Middle-Earth would I Foresee you? I have bigger things to worry about right now than one recalcitrant patient."

"I'm not your patient. I'm not patient enough to be your patient. I'm not staying here if you aren't. The only reason the other residents haven't driven me out already is because they don't dare to do so whilst you're still here."

"I've told you before; bringing my patients with me is hardly going to win Thranduil's trust in my good judgement." He could not let the boy win too easily. If the young man even got a hint that he wouldn't have to fight every inch of the way for the right to accompany them, he would be insufferable for the entire journey.

"But I'm good with meeting new people. It's only once the novelty has worn off that they don't like me anymore."

"There are plenty of people here who dislike you without ever having met you, as you are obviously already well aware."

"And what do you expect me to do here, other than read all of your books behind your back until I get permanently evicted from the valley?"

"What could you possibly hope to bring to a diplomatic mission that would outweigh the complaints that would undoubtedly arise?"

"I persuaded Maeldaer's mare to let him turn her foal, just like you asked. I can be useful in unexpected ways."

"Such as what, for example?"

"If I promise that I can help you not to be troubled by night-mares all the time, would you allow me to come with you?"

Elrond froze, mishearing, "How do you know..." That mare really would be the death of him somehow, regardless of how many times he managed to avert disaster on a daily basis. The man merely looked thoughtful, however. He sighed, "Well since you've now learnt something that you were never supposed to learn, is there anything else that you've learnt which you weren't supposed to learn that might actually help? Because if not, please leave me be."

"How do you know that I am not supposed to learn things if you never Foresee me learning them?"

"It's not that simple. Everything I Foresee and avert creates a new space in which things that I haven't Foreseen might occur in. It is bad enough seeking to look ahead a few days every single day. Looking months ahead several times a day is enough to give even an elf a headache."

"But you're not just any elf."

"Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?"

"Neither. It is a statement of fact. You are only a half-elf."

"It doesn't work that way. I am not some base cross-breed. The Valar required us to choose which race we would belong to. I chose to be Eldar, my brother, Adan."

"If it were as simple as choosing to be absolutely one thing rather than the other, why would Dúnedain live so long compared to normal men? And why doesn't that ever go away, no matter how many generations there have been since Elros sired the bloodline? Thus, you are no more just-an-elf, same-as-any-other-elf, than your twin was just-a-man, same as the next thug-with-a-club."

"It's not wise to deride the Race of Men, even in your thoughts."

"It was supposed to be an equal compliment to all mentioned."

"With you I can never be sure if you are deliberately trying to insult people."

"Because the delicate flowers around here would never dream of insulting even their enemies, let alone people they admire?"

"It's not likely to win you many friends around here."

"If one's worth is only defined by how similar you are to others, then I don't want to 'win friends' anywhere."

"Yet you wish to be accepted."

"I wish to be accepted as ME, not some cheap imitation of something I'm not."

He sighed, "You may be asking too much of people."

"Maybe you ask too little of them, by trying to live up to being something you were not born to be. Why would you caution me against thinking ill of men, if you didn't feel inferior because of your dual heritage?"

"Would you prefer that I somehow feel that I am superior to both races?"

"I think that you feel set-apart, in more aspects of your life than just your blood-heritage."

"Repeating my own words back to me will not win you extra credit."

"If you actually practised all that you preached, then there wouldn't be any reason to do so."

"Are you planning to say anything useful or not?"

"If you want quick-fix practical solutions, then I could watch over you as you sleep."

"And if you think that I am about to let my patients believe that they can sleep in the same room as me, then you are sorely mistaken."

"I thought that we were talking about on the road east."

"Quick-fix does not mean several weeks from now."

"That really depends on how impatient a patient you are now doesn't it?"

His irritation was no longer half-feigned. "Can you fix this or not?"

"I solemnly swear that I will do everything in my power to aid you to overcome your embattled stance against your nightmares."

"Starting now?"

"I started as soon as I found you awake in the middle of the night, rather than asleep like someone as cranky-tired as you are should be. What did you expect? That I would have a magic ring in my pocket for you? Not even Celebrimbor could forge one so quickly. I'll stay up while you sleep tonight, and we can talk about all this when you aren't so snippy."

It was tempting. He was tired. But he wouldn't have time tomorrow, or even tomorrow's tomorrows for who knew how long. "Just do the best you can now. Please. I'm sorry I snapped."

"Do you expect your patients to apologise for being injured or sick? Stuff your sorry's; what's actually going on with you?"

"Obviously, I'm having nightmares."

"A bad memory that keeps replaying in your mind?"

"If it were that simple, then I would name it so, even though I could possibly do nothing about it."

"Define a nightmare then."

"Like an ill-boding Foresight, only I can't find anything to match it to when I'm awake. The scenarios are too unlikely."

"Have you tried sleeping whilst watching the stars directly, as a Light-anchor?"

"I rarely manage to sleep through the night with my eyes open anymore, regardless of what I attempt to do to anchor myself."

The man took a seat, pondering this. "How long since you always slept with your eyes open?"

"A few centuries."

"Did you ever sleep with your eyes closed before Celebrían sailed?"

"No, but I can't just up and go join her in Valinor, anymore now than I could then."

"Do you have nightmares about her?"

"Of course not. What bad thing could possibly happen to her with the Valar and Valier surrounding her?"

"You did say that they didn't match any waking Foresight."

"I didn't say that I have been having nightmares for centuries, only that I am certain that I never slept with my eyes closed before then. She would have told me."

"So when did the nightmares start?"

"I definitely didn't have any before the last meeting of the White Council, beyond that I cannot find any reason for them."

"After Mithrandir was here with Thorin's motley crew? Even I started having nightmares when I got blamed for things going missing after they passed through. If I ever see Nori again I will pay him back, with interest, for every ounce of grief I caught over that!"

"You never told me."

"You're not my father for me to come whining to over false accusations."

"I am, however, the lord of this valley."

"And therefore have better things to do than deal with my problems. As you have made equally clear to me."

"I never said that."

"I didn't say that you said it. I said that you made it clear."

"I'm not a Vala, mellon nín. I don't personally oversee every detail of what happens here."

"'I' never asked you to. I wouldn't want you to, for the sake of Lindir's sanity."

He smiled at that. The younger elf was a perfectly competent junior. "He can seek a little too hard for perfection, at times."

"He's not the only one around here attempting to live up to unreasonably high expectations of himself." the man pointed out.

"It is a common theme, I agree."

"YOU are the common theme here, Lord of Imladris. When you set the bar too high for yourself, everyone under you follows your example. You'll give Thranduil a nervous breakdown before you even get there, if he's anything like you."

Elrond sighed, "That does match the theme of my nightmares these past three nights. I have never had a nightmare that repeated itself before this."

"What happens in this repeating nightmare?"

Elrond fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable. "Something always ends up trying to rip my throat out." he reluctantly admitted.

"Does it ever succeed?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because symbolic-thought sequences can look like one thing, but mean another. For example:" He settled back in his chair, relaxing into his discourse, "If I am worried about things getting too much for me, about having bitten off more than I can chew, I dream about mice, regardless of more appropriate metaphors."

"Mice." Elrond felt that this was unnecessarily cryptic.

"I had a pet mouse when I was quite young. I carried it in my pocket wherever I went. He was very useful for making girls scream and run away. But as I kept losing track of him, this wasn't always intentional.

"In my dreams, I am always spotting him running around loose and trying to catch him to put him back in my pocket. On rarer occasions it starts by discovering that my pocket is empty; sometimes however when I go to put him in my pocket, another mouse is already there. Once I ended-up with several mice in every pocket, and I was still seeing more mice running around the place. Once I kept finding dead mice, but none of them were him. Do you follow?"

"Maybe." There was a strong metaphorical logic to it all.

"The mind will rarely let go of the original reference, just as it is rare for spoken words to become archaic and irrelevant. It can easily build upon a premise with more subtle nuances however. It's an art in its own right, the original art, to interpret the subtle, symbolic differences between these key references. Such as the difference between experiencing fear of having your throat ripped out, feeling predatory teeth gripping your throat to suffocate you, and literally having your throat ripped open. The first is straight up fear of conflict, which I will come back to. The second is usually about loss of control over what happens to you next. The third can mean many different things depending on what might be strange about it. Is it painless, is it merely disfiguring, is there blood? Is it your vocal chords being taken from you by force, or is it your life blood rapidly draining away? Are you being attacked by a predator trying to eat you, by a rival male, by a female who thinks you a threat to her offspring? Is your attacker clear and recognisable, or a blur of composite symbols? These are the questions that need to be asked to unravel the hidden meaning. Fear of conflict by comparison, is base resistance to anything new or strange. They are called night-mares for a reason; you can choose whether to treat her as an enemy to be defeated, a threat to your own authority as a male to be subjugated to your will, or as a skittish prey animal trying to warn you of danger. Prey animals talk more about predators than they do about each other. Only sapient races can think that their own kind are the most dangerous things out there, as a mirror of themselves being their own worst enemy. Nightmares don't want to be your enemy, they want you to listen.

"The nightmares of men are purely hindsight affairs; dealing with our memories and what we still haven't learnt from our past which will keep repeating itself in our present. Or our basest fear of anything new which we view as strange or frightening. With Elven Foresight in the mix however, it's unlikely to be that straightforward. All hail the poor sods born with a complex blood heritage; they will either break the world, save it, or get themselves killed attempting to do one or the other. Ultimately we should be saving ourselves rather than everyone else, but you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Not that I've seen anyone here prepared to eat anything that came from an animal, even though you are all eager to slaughter orcs on sight. I can never decide if the overall theme is pro-violence or anti-violence. Your Elven idealism is constantly at war with the practicalities of remaining alive. It's hardly surprising to me that you're finally being forced to think about things in a way more akin to men. It's been twenty-nine hundred years since the end of the last age, and what has really changed about the nature of elves in that time? Adapt or die; or just sod off to Aman and leave us that ARE doomed to die, to figure it out for ourselves instead of claiming that you must know better than us - even though you are stuck in the past; unable to let it go and trying to keep everything the same forever." He fell silent then, withdrawing into his own dark thoughts, cares and worries. 

Elrond stood, reaching out to touch him briefly on the shoulder in tacit gratitude for ideas not easily imparted, and retreated to his bedchamber. He needed to sleep and he felt confident that if he did dream again tonight, it would not be a nightmare. At least, not the same one... 


End file.
